#is this disassociation? probably. will i go to the doctors about it? probably not

[maudiemoods]

I hate being sick but I also don't mind it because I'm never truly grounded unless I'm sick. Idk most of the time I feel like I'm watching my life behind a screen but when I'm super sick I get to feel the air and see things really clear

[cupidkenji]

Doctor, Doctor, please listen!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Tension (I tried), cursing, the smallest physical description of reader in the last portion (just mentions their stomach going over their pants), reader has scars from previous cases, rivals to lovers?, lmk if i'm missing smth Summary: 3 times you called him doctor, 3 times he wonders why. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but I don't really ever describe their bodies that much cause it's x READER and every body has a different body <3 WC: 3,596 I am literally so obsessed with criminal minds somebody save my soul OBLIVOUS IDIOTS WHO WANT EACH OTHER MY BELOVED. Title from mad hatter by Melanie Martinez don't even @ me for that

1.

“...she will be an important part of making your team function quicker. We fought hard to get her here. I ask that you all treat her with respect and not make me intervene.” 

Strauss finished her introductory spiel with a familiar “mom-glare” towards the team, walking away once she finished her speech. Unfortunately, her departure left you standing alone in front of the most intimidating man you’ve ever seen and four of his team members. You had been practically still until now. You hated the pressure of everyone’s eyes on you, causing a general freeze response to the stress of a new team. Fawn, you thought, the newest addition to the fight or flight categories and also the lovely thing forcing you to practically disassociate in front of your new boss and co-workers. 

“Welcome, Dr. L/N. We’ve heard good things. I’m Aaron Hotchner, I supervise the team.” He was leaning on the table before he stepped forward to shake your hand as he spoke. “This is Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid.” He pointed towards the corresponding people as he spoke of them. “Agent Rossi is away right now, and you’ll meet our T.I. later…she’s been excited.” If you hadn’t been good at your job, you’re sure you would have missed the way his lips turned up slightly at the edges when mentioning the woman. He didn’t seem so scary anymore, more like a father of the team. You’d been expecting a drill sergeant - your last team leader could have given a bull a run for it’s money with how much aggression that guy had. You welcomed the rush of excitement you felt at the discovery, mentally shaking off the stiffness you were carrying. 

“I’m happy to be here, sir. I’ve heard good things about the team, too. Your boss seems to think highly of your capabilities.” You addressed the room as you spoke. Public speaking was a skill you were still trying to master, so you practiced whenever you could. 

Your statement earned a chuckle from the table. Nobody bothered to explain the reason. You figured it was too much history to sum up on the spot. Your eyes wanted to linger on Reid. He seemed so young, and you wondered if he’d been told that his entire career - lord knows you had too. A fellow doctor. You assumed he was a bit of a stickler about the title, as even his boss kept it tacked onto his name when introducing him. You’d originally hoped to find some comfort in the man, on the surface he seemed a lot like you. He was probably too smart for his own good as well. Given the way he was staring at you, though, you felt the realization sink in that the man had no intention of welcoming you. 

“Why exactly do we need another profiler?” His voice held no malice as he spoke in the direction of his boss. There was more curiosity in his voice than anything, however you did pick up on the sense of superiority that sat just beneath the surface of his words. You guessed that’s how he behaved generally - as though he was superior. Still, your head tilted slightly to the side at the question. 

Damn. Tough crowd. 

You saw the intake of breath in Hotchner as he prepared to defend your place here but you spoke before he could start. “While I am a profiler, sir, first and foremost I am a psychiatrist - a doctor. As I’m sure you heard from Strauss, the board is unhappy with your recent efficiency rates and would also like to aid your team in dealing with mental health crises. I’ve spent my entire life studying the effects and conditions of the mentally diseased brain. I’ll be able to tell you the most efficient and effective way of interacting with these individuals, along with more accurately predicting their actions and methodology. I’m an agent, I took the same oath everyone here did but I was brought here for my expertise.” You were on a bit of a tangent, you knew that, but something about the smug feel of the man forced an emergence of competitiveness. He looked at you so indifferent, and you couldn’t help the tiny sparks of anger lighting beneath your skin. You kept a friendly disposition towards the man - you were a professional, after all, not a teenager - but you sensed a rivalry sprouting it’s roots.

The others at the table suppressed their smiles or looked down to hide it. Nobody had ever challenged Spencer like that. They could all feel he was a tad bit territorial. He was the guy people went to when they needed to know something. He was the Doctor of the group. They didn’t think he would take too kindly to another one encroaching his land. They saw the way he was tense, even more so after you responded. It was a riveting sight, though. The lot of them saw Spencer as a younger brother, and him meeting his match was something they were all so excited to see.

“Play nice, pretty boy.” Derek muttered to him, Spencer was slightly slouched in his chair now, not losing sight of you. Derek followed suit, turning his attention towards you. “We’re glad to have you, Doctor. We’ve spoken about an addition like you before, I’m glad to see the higher ups finally listened. I look forward to working with you - excuse me.” He left once his phone rang. 

The others took his exit as an excuse for their own, everyone giving you a warm welcome as they left. You reciprocated happily, telling everyone they could just call you by your first name, never having been one for titles. ‘There’s one difference.’ You thought, even your internal dialogue was bitter. Aside from him, there was a warmth here that you had been desperate to find in your last team. If you had to work passive aggressively with one uptight man in exchange for a team like this - you were going to take that deal. 

He refused to leave it seemed. He just sat looking inquisitively at the table, occasionally extending his stare to look at you before returning. How did you two end up alone in this room?

“Are you gonna have a problem with me, Doctor?” You shifted slightly on your feet. A notoriously nervous sign, one he definitely picked up on.

He stared again. It was his mind that kept him rooted in his seat. You were fucking alluring. He’d never met someone so like himself in his line of work. He was being a dick and he knew it but it seemed to be instinctual - some type of precaution, maybe. He didn’t know why you were being so respectful. Doctor. God, he didn’t know if the title had ever sounded so good being directed at him. His frustration only rose as he thought on the issue more. He wasn’t welcoming, it would be so easy to drop the formality, something he knew you knew would get on his nerves. But you didn’t. It didn’t seem like a question of dignity. You didn’t seem like the type to refuse a little pettiness - he sure wasn’t the type either. A thought stirred, an unsafe one he wanted to squash immediately but one he also couldn’t help but lean into. Did you want a power imbalance?

“No.” He stood abruptly, obviously still focused on the thoughts in his head. “Welcome to the team.” He addressed you one last time and then walked out of the room.

You followed shortly after, ready to make home on your couch and be done with being the newbie for the day. Your stress would follow you home, though, as the last thing you heard before you left the building was “Oh my god they’re perfect for each other.”

2.

The first few weeks were always the hardest. This was something you knew and were prepared for but it did nothing to calm your nerves. You’d been on countless missions having worked this job for a while now, but this was an entirely new dynamic to learn. You were an outsider for the first time in four years and it was scary. This case was shaping up to be a rough one, too. A man was having delusions telling him to kill. An extremely rare manifestation of his Schizophrenia, only elevated by the newly acquired aspect of him being an insomniac. 

Spencer hadn’t ceased being headstrong in cases either. Every time you wanted to help he made it his mission to overcompensate in order to snuff you out. On the contrary, he’d warmed up to you a little. It wasn’t major, he barely held any positive feelings toward you, but barely was better than not at all, so you coped. You two had managed a couple small talk conversations outside the battle of one-upping that you were currently losing. You absolutely hated it, but you liked him. You liked him a lot, actually. You don’t know when in the past few days that anger morphed into fondness but it had shifted hard. The casual dominance he exuded drew you in like a porchlight lures a moth. You doubted the opposite proved true for him, and that stung. You came to enjoy the banter, the competition, even if you were always playing the losing hand. It was the only way to get his undivided attention and the feeling of his eyes on you started to follow you home. 

You thought a lot about how you could get the relationship to pivot into something better. You didn’t want to be the girl he bickered with at work. You didn’t know what it was you wanted but you knew that your current fate sounded horrid. He was an ass, though, and he did not make it easy to admit those feelings. Every time he undermined you, you grew more attached and also more angry at yourself for doing so. It was because he’s so much like you, you thought. You knew from the way he interacted with his team that he wasn’t a cold guy, didn’t hold malice towards people for no reason. He needs time. He needs to know you, and God how badly you wanted to know him. 

You had sustained good relations with everyone the past few weeks you’ve been here. Meeting Garcia and Rossi had been a treat - both of them being delightful company. You’d heard them whispering about you and Spencer when they thought you weren’t around. The whole team seems to think that you’re basically fated to be together. It was unnerving how comforting that thought was to you. You hoped they were right. 

Spencer hoped they were right too. He’d heard the same whispers you had, chastising the team when he got the chance as if he didn’t think about you every moment he could. His eyes seemed to naturally land on you if you were around. He watched you walk around the bureau more and more lately, enjoying the gained confidence in your step as you cemented your place in the team. The sway of your hips or the swing of your arms. You mesmerized him no matter what you did. One time he got so caught up in his thoughts of you that Prentiss had to check he wasn’t having a silent panic attack. He clung to his sense of resentment, tried so hard to remind himself of the feelings he had when he first met you - you were beautiful, of course you were - but you were on claimed land and he was anything but eager for you to make home on it. That had faded fast, seeing how kind you were, scrambling to help and earn respect from everyone. The only reason he kept up the act of  “man who wants you gone” was so that he could keep talking to you. Spencer was a genius but he didn’t know how to handle someone like you. He’d been interested in girls before, hell he’d had girlfriends before but it had never felt like this in such little time. Such intense infatuation was crippling for someone who’s brain worked in patterns - this was new ground for him. 

“Everybody suit up. We have Foster’s location and we need to move quickly. He’s going after the source of his rage and we don’t have time to spare.” Hotch came down the stairs two at a time, spurring the team into action. 

“This man is highly dangerous but also highly deluded. The cases I’ve read similar to this say it’s best to speak gently. He’s sick but he can be reasoned with.” Spencer pulls from his memory as he sets his ‘FBI’ vest into place on his chest. 

“No, not this time. This man is too severe, his mind is too far gone. If these hallucinations of his are strong enough for him to touch them it’ll be extremely easy for him to rearrange or imagine your words differently. You need to be loud, direct, and assertive. Speak as little as possible. The quieter you are, the easier it will be for him to change what you’re saying in his head.” You also spoke while putting your vest on. You didn’t carry a weapon - a personal vow of yours, as you were more than classified to - so there were no holsters to fill. The contradictions between the two doctors of the team made everyone hesitate even though they lacked the time to do so.

Spencer looked at you, slightly out of breath from working so quickly. “You’re questioning my memory?” 

“I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor. I’m questioning your sources. There’s a higher risk level if we do what you’re suggesting. Let me do my job.” You made the final adjustments to your attire as you finished speaking. You returned his eye contact for just a beat too long, letting the others rush out of the building while you stood your ground, the two of you begrudgingly following after them a moment later.

You had been assigned a different car than him for the ride over. ‘Thank God’ was the only thing you could think when you saw him heading to the other SUV. After another confrontation - another public one, at that - you weren’t sure you could handle being pressed leg to leg with him in the backseat. Your words were a looping record in his head as he rode towards Foster. They were about to attempt a hostage negotiation with a man seeing people who weren’t there but all he could think about was that fucking word you refused to drop. 

I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor

You had to be doing this on purpose, he thought. He originally believed this had started because you knew stripping him of his beloved title would cause irritation. Now he suspected you knew how badly he wanted his name in your mouth and this was your way of torturing him. ‘It’s working.’ He thought. God was it working. He agreed with his team, you were perfect for him. You had knowledge to match his, kept him on his toes. One time the start of a ramble slipped through his “I don’t like you” façade and he felt his heart speed up at the genuine interest that roused in your eyes. You wanted to know him and he was an idiot for all the shit he was doing. 

He wasn’t surprised when your strategy worked and Ben Foster was taken into custody. You were the one to talk him down, and if you hadn’t already been accepted to the team, he knew then and there that they needed you. You were flawless. He knew you’d been doing this as long as he had and it showed. He pleaded with himself to stay focused, zeroed in on the weight of the gun in his hand to save face. His mind never left you, though, much like his eyes. This was the expertise you spoke of - no wonder they fought hard to get you here. 

“You were excellent in there.” It was just the two of you now. Even in the dull, flashing police lights, you were breathtaking. “Good job.” He said. Then he walked away because he was on the brink of kissing you and didn’t feel like breaking about 18 workplace rules while at the scene of a crime. You wouldn’t have been complaining if he did.

3.

Every time something like this happened it was difficult to remind yourself that not carrying a weapon was a choice you made willingly. You were currently sitting in the back of an open ambulance, about to be hoisted onto a stretcher and driven to the ER for stitches. You’ve been with the BAU for almost 3 months now and have miraculously managed to avoid injury in that time. This had been one of the easier cases. No chases or clues to follow, just a sick man who left a fairly obvious paper trail. You were the speaker on almost all cases. You were in charge of de-escalating a situation, making sure the bomb didn’t blow. You’ve never carried a weapon, always preferring to take the wounds of a job over using a gun to back up your words. You were a psychiatrist, you wanted to make people better, not vilify them. It worked, usually. People did tend to trust you more when you were unarmed. This time, though, it got you stabbed.

It wasn’t a bad injury, the blood had already stopped and was mildly dry by the time Spencer was joining you. Just one more scar to your collection. It was to the side of your quad, missing any artery by miles and just serving as a pain source at this point. A little numbing and some stitches and you’d be right as rain is what the doctor in the ambulance had said. 

“What happened?” He spoke softly to you. There wasn’t a rivalry between you two, not really. The banter hadn’t stopped, but it changed. It was playful and actually fun now. The both of you weren’t obsessed with outdoing the other anymore. Some casual boastfulness and a budding friendship is where you were at with him currently. 

“I got stabbed.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

He exhaled like he couldn’t comprehend the stupidity of your answer. You laughed at that. One enjoyable pastime you’d picked up in the past month was trying to bewilder him. The EMT said he needed to check the rest of your body for injury despite your protest of such a procedure. It was typical and you knew that, but you held onto the fear of your own body that middle school gave you. There was a man you liked here, and the thought of him seeing the bit of stomach that hung outside the waistline of your pants scared you more than you thought it would. You forced yourself to be rational in spite of this. It was Spencer, you wanted to be seen by him. 

“Holy shit.”

You chuckled at that. You forgot that maybe a warning was in order for the amount of scars that littered your stomach.

“Probably should have told you about those.” There were dozens. You amassed a countless amount of scars over the course of your job. Stab wounds, bullet grazes, burn marks. Unsubs, as much as you tried to empathize, were often violent at the end of the day and usually lashed out before they could be helped. 

He was staring - well, gazing more like. Not like someone stares at a car accident on the freeway but instead how someone stares at the moon - awe. He was in awe of you. Your strength, your courage, the fact that you went through all these individual events and still chose not to arm yourself. Some of these were in places that could have been fatal, and he thanked whatever entity may be listening that you persevered, begged them to continue that streak. He crashed hard into the desire to touch you, to run his hands over what little of your past he could see. He wondered if you would let him. If you’d fit into his palms the way he thought you would - if that was something you even wanted. The EMT was gone by now, having moved to the passenger seat for the ride to the hospital. 

“Could I - " He hesitated for a moment, this was definitely the wrong question to ask. “Can I touch you?”

Your eyes glazed over slightly. Jesus. You felt your lips part a little.

“You want to?” Genuine surprise. You didn’t think you looked particularly desirable in your current state. He wanted to touch your fucking scars. Who does he think he is?

“Please.” He was looking at you in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes were glazed over too. You held his eyes as you nodded. The heat was so stifling that you laughed just a little at the tension.

“Fucking hell, Spence.”

Blood shot to his ears when you said his name. It had been well worth the wait to hear you say it like that - breathy and confused and so fucking pretty that he wondered how he ever lived before you said it. 

“Will you tell me about them?” He was breathy too, but he wouldn’t have you here, not like this. He just needed to feel you. 

“I’ll tell you anything you want, Doc.”

His hands were warm. It wouldn’t be the last time you felt them.

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven Pt. 3

Part 1 Part 2

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader

Homelander had arrived at your office earlier than your usual meeting time. You had asked him to be there around an hour earlier than your scheduled session. He was putting on a fake smile; he was always good at that. Homelander thought he knew what was happening. You were dropping him as a client. You had to be. You had all but threatened it the last time he came to your house when he was desperate for someone to talk to or even just be around. When his reflection was saying things that were beyond harsh and his penthouse felt a little too empty. Even if you did drop him as a client, he didn’t plan on going anywhere, but it bothered him that you would have even tried.

Homelander stepped into the office without knocking, like he always did. He knew that bothered you, but he didn’t need to knock. It was obvious to him when someone else was in the room, and you would not be dumb enough to book someone over his time with you. He immediately noticed your heart beating faster and the stink of adrenaline all over your body. You were afraid. The smell of adrenaline was fresh, so that meant one thing: you were afraid of him.

Homelander took his seat across from you. You smiled a fake smile before asking, “How are you today?” He wanted to gripe about you, tell you that you had no reason to be afraid of him right now, tell you that even if you tried to drop him as a client, he wasn’t leaving. “Fine,” is all he says with an irritated tone. “What’s so important that I had to be here an hour before our meeting? You know I’m a busy man,” he scolds. Your heart rate spikes.

“Well, we’ve been having some issues with boundaries. Usually, I discuss these things in our first meeting, but since my contract with The Seven was a unique experience, I hadn’t bothered to have a boundaries talk with any of you, at least not an in-depth one.” After you finish talking, Homelander relaxes a bit. You weren’t trying to get rid of him. It was a relief. He figured since you were human; you probably didn’t notice the change in his demeanor, but in reality, it was a very noticeable change. He was like a feral cat finally calming down enough to eat or drink.

“Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries,” Homelander mocks a bit. “Is that all you doctors want to talk about? I thought you wanted to talk about me?”

“This is about you. It’s about both of us,” you counter. He stands back up and begins pacing a bit with his hands behind his back. “Look, we need to have boundaries. They are important. In our first session, I said that I am here for you, and I cannot be here for you if we have no boundaries. If these boundaries continue to be pressed, then I will recommend you to another psychiatrist, one that will be better suited to your needs.” It’s obvious this pisses him off enough that his mask drops. Homelander’s already thin lips flatten into a line of a scowl. At first, his eyes widen a bit, clearly shocked at your sudden assertiveness, but then narrowing somewhat out of anger. He is not looking at you. He’s looking in your direction but pointedly avoiding you or maybe looking through you. Homelander seems to be lost in thought or as if he has suddenly begun to disassociate.

“So you are dropping me?” he finally says. His voice is flat, and his eyes are somewhat glassy. “No. I am still your psychiatrist. We will just be working on our boundaries. It’s my fault. I should have discussed this with you the minute I realized we would be meeting regularly, and I should not have been so indulgent, but that stops now. We will both be good, okay? And you can continue to be my patient. But there will be no time for us outside of this office, and you will quit showing up at my house or following me home. I know you are lonely, but I cannot fill that loneliness as your psychiatrist. I can help you understand why you are having those feelings, but I cannot fix them.” You speak with a confidence that Homelander has never seen from you. He likes this attitude you have.

He ponders it for a moment before sitting back down. Homelander thinks he can make this work, for now. He will still get to see you and visit your house while you’re out. You’re still his. “Okay, I’ll behave,” Homelander says in a way that borders on pride and flirting. He feels somewhat proud of you for being so assertive with you, even if he’s not a huge fan of the outcome.

He knows you will come around eventually, and when you do, he will be waiting with a dinner reservation and the mirror on the ceiling of his bedroom freshly cleaned.

Tag list: @demodemo909 @misadventures0fdes

[stolasdearest]

Hey! Sorry if this is a bother, but I was wondering if you could do a headcannon of how Will, Gale, Astarion and Karlach would comfort you after top surgery? I’m getting mine soon, and baldurs is my comfort game, and this would be so incredible! Thank you for your time, really! Your work is incredible!!

Hi omg so like warning, I am a genderfluid afab so this writing might not be spot on for you but Im gonna try my absolute best pooks

Warnings: Not proofread! Talk of gender dysphoria, slight mentions of Transphobia

Transmasc!Tav x Bg3 chars

She doesn't really understand but that by no means she's not supportive, Whatever you wanna do you do. You look sexy as hell anyways.

Would definitely wanna see your scars and depending on your approach of them would compliment them, say they "add character" and "show how badass you are" after confiding in her of the struggles of being Trans she admires you 100 times more because she couldn't imagine feeling like that and being the sunshine you are

will hold you, talk with you, listen to you during the entire process. And if anyone ever says anything negative about them OR you? Oh hold her back or she might upper cut someone, you learned that the hard way. Smothers you in affection and reassurance before and after the surgery telling you she doesn't find you less attractive and that you'll be absolutely breathtaking no matter what you look like.

He listens to you all the time, if you go into a dark place about your identity and what you look like he will sit right at your side and tell you the sweetest things and you can tell he's 100% genuine

Like Karlach he will be there with you throughout the entire process, will help you apply creams and other remedies that'll help with scarring if you are uncomfortable with them, might even try and find a healer to try and get them completely removed.

But if you choose to just let your body heal naturally and whatever happens of the scars happens he will lay his chin on your chest while looking up at you. Just, looking at you

You are genuinely the most handsome man he's seen in his entire life and he would tell you till you lose your hearing.

Wyll is your number.1 defender in anything but especially your identity. He never even mentions youre trans to others not even his family and if they ask he just shrugs and says "Tav is Tav, and I love Him very much"

Said with a "that's that" tone to ensure the others do not engage further, unless you feel comfortable sharing your experience obviously.

He gets what it's like to feel out of place in your own body, he gets the disassociation and confusion of it— not in the way you do and he says that, telling you he wouldn't wanna compare your situation to his and that they are vastly different.

Would probably trace his fingers over your scars (with your consent ofc) whispering about how Gorgeous and Handsome you are, he tells you to not bat (ehe) them much mind they do not define you or your identity as a man.

He could go on about you and your greatness for hours if you ever felt upset before or after the surgery, grabbing your face and making you look at him while he admires the face of the love of his life.

He can understand the out of body experience you might experience and sympathize with you

Definitely the kinda guy to say "get tattoos over em" if you say you don't like the look of them, I think he finds Tattoos very attractive and if they make you feel better that's even better!

If you needed to get your mind off it he would just nudge you with a few Magic facts and see if you bite so you can listen to his very non-coherent rambles

Probably the first person to see you after it, will literally fight his way through Doctors and nurses to see you holding your favorite things.

And you'll never forget how his eyes light up at seeing you, He sees you're so much happier now and you feel more comfortable and he's so extremely proud of you.

THIS MIGHT BE SHIT??? but congrats on getting your top surgery date and I hope you recover well and feel at ease with yourself. PLEASE STAY SAFE AND LOVE YOURSELF YOURE WONDERFUL💋

[darkbluekies]

Hello there! It's good to be back, didn't expect to be gone for like I think two whole weeks or three but oh well and hmm! Let's see if you're right about that! I love him a lot and he is, in fact my darling but I do have a trait in me that he would dislike (greatly, even.)

Silas:

Male Yandere characters [most to least]

Pros — Obedient ((just like you, I'm also terrified.)) a introvert and likes to be in my room 24/7 .. would enjoy being in his house more if provided an art room, also I hate being in pain too and I think I'd have a heart attack if I ever tried to escape.

Cons — I have anger issues and get overwhelmed easily+ other mental health problems like my BPD, I might split on him [ a term where people with BPD can only see white ((good)) or black ((bad)) and not in the grayish area or the in-between of good and bad.)) and that probably might anger him and be sent to the basement ☠️ and I hate pain so much so I'd probably get a mental breakdown and start cursing at him —

Dr Kry: ((suprised he's second?? Unless..))

Pros — I have a lot of similarities with him > loves cooking, gardening, light exercise, reading books and because he's a doctor and my dream job is to be a psychiatrist, I would probably rant to him about the things I've studied and accomplished with my major.

Cons — unless he's giving my break a body and be able to do house chores for some entertainment and stimulation, I am extremely defiant and I don't like really like someone treating me like a hopeless, dumb doll. I don't consider myself smart but I don't wanna be treated like I'm some dumb guy 😭 I'd only love him truly if he doesn't continue poisoning me and treating me like a naive, hopeless doll.

Would still love him, from afar that is, anyone being his darling and being defiant, just goodluck to y'all 😭

King Edmund: [ platonic ]

Pros — you mentioned her shows more of his human side and is less yandere-ish with male readers, I suppose that's the con, interested in his kingdoms history and I guess... We could possibly be friends?? However,

Cons — I am terrified of him. I don't know if it's any different with male readers but if he ends up killing someone because of me, I would consider my friendship with him. I do not wanna be friends with an unstable guy 😭

If he doesn't, well.. when he gets a wife, I'll probably guide him with his relationship and if that gets me killed, could be the best ending because would he even let go of a male reader??😭 Unsure, I don't really read his stories as often as the other male characters

Female characters [ most to least , also platonic since I'm attracted to men. ]

Hedwig:

Pros — I feel like I'd be the safest with her out of all yanderes, I would love being spoiled by her ((I'll likely get uncomfortable at first but would get used to it.)) and having a friend around with me

Cons — my social battery tends to drain easily and with how clingy she is, it'll drain me more. I also hate prioritizing other people when my social battery is this low unless it's urgent/important (like me being concerned for a friend or so due to several reasons like mental health or my job.) so if I was forced to put my attention towards her, I would get really annoyed and be a bit more forward.

Jerry:

Cons — ...I don't think there's any pros for me, in fact, she's the one I actually fear the most. I wonder if she'd treat me differently if she knows I'm trans, as in ftm, like treating me softer compared to cis guys because I understand being a woman is hard.. especially the periods, god. Her aggressive humors scares me, a lot and if she shows me what she does while working, I wouldn't take it well and disassociate and if I were to form some unhealthy attachment with her or at least a bond, my BPD would get triggered due to how she shows her love and I would split on her 24/7 thinking she hates me and wants me dead.

Well, that took quite the time to write. Let me know if you need more information on BPD, I don't think I wrote it well, it's... 4 am for me and my eyes are as dry as the sahara dessert. I need to use my glasses more when I'm not going out somewhere.

—🌊

I am surprised that he is second not going to lie lmao, i really thought that he would be your number one!

it's so interesting to read and see how different people fit the different yanderes since Y/N is more of their own character rather than ourselves haha, it puts things in another perspective! I liked to read this <3333

Edmund isn't less yandere with men, just in a friend way. Like "you are my friend only I will not share you with anyone else, you can only have me as your best friend" and will not accept his best friend spending time with anyone but him, wanting Edmund to be his only friend, kind of thing. He is just as controlling, just as entitled. Be sure that Edmund wouldn't kill any darling, platonic or romantic! You will stay with him until the end of time because you are the only one that knows his real side :D

As for Jerry, I can say that she is the number one OC when it comes to trans/nonbinary etc things. She is the least judging, most understanding. She would most likely treat you like she treats all guys so be prepared for some sudden playfights :D

[trueshredguitar]

I saw your post tags about transitioning would save Hawkeye pierce and I’m very curious, say more (if you’d like)

hawkeye has a lot of scenes that convey gender nonconformity under a humorous lens. sometimes it’s scenes implying that he’s sexually or romantically attracted to men; these scenes aren’t just “haha he’s expressing attraction to men,” they’re often based around the premise of hawkeye being a wife, being a woman, being pursued/“claimed,” and a shocking amount of references to pregnancy? see: “i know you’re a general and i’m just a captain but i wanna have your baby! i’ll kiss all your stars!”

i.e. the joke being made is about hawkeye liking men but it’s RARELY phrased as him being a homosexual man, it’s OFTEN phrased as him being a heterosexual woman

and sometimes it’s simply scenes calling him a girl or making references to him being soft/feminine/emasculated. often times he will make these jokes HIMSELF and call himself an aunt, a mother, a girl, demure or other adjectives that women were socialized to aspire to in the era. his friends will often refer to him like this without any hint of mocking, just lightheartedness (trapper referring to him as “miz hawkeye”)

i apologize that i don’t have the links right now but if you go into my archive and look in my “mash” tag there are video compliations of a lot of these moments, and the compliations don’t even include all of them

also imo these moments hawkeye has a) contrast with klinger’s relationship to his femininity/gender nonconformity, as he is all about playing with outward presentation, and b) compare with margaret’s relationship to HER gender. which, margaret’s gender by itself is an absolutely wildly progressive examination of womanhood where she is allowed to be “masculine” in many aspects of her life while still asserting herself that she is a WOMAN and always will be despite what she does, or how her life, career, or personality looks. that SHE is the arbiter and determinator of her gender and not how much she keeps into the femininity box. i wish i had concrete examples of why i think this, but it’s been a little bit since i watched the show and i think it’s mostly me reading too much into things

i think also hawkeye’s disassociation issues and complex ptsd is really like. advanced in contrast to other people in the 4077th. he’s the main character for a reason and that’s because he’s the one with the deepest emotional wounds and the drunkest, promiscuous, saddest, most insomniatic doctor in the place. there had been psychological issues in place before he had been sent to korea and none of them were very cut-and-dry as we find.

in conclusion i think the fictional man with noted androgynous presentation who flouts gender conventions as well as masculine army structures and patriarchal power structures and constantly refers to himself as a woman and uses a psuedonym instead of his birth name and has very pronounced psychological issues and self-harming tendencies could be trans in 1950-whatever without good words for it, or be unable to in any way shape or form live authentically, and i think being able to be a woman would have probably made hawkeye’s life just a little bit easier. maybe transitioning wouldn’t save her because estrogen won’t airlift you out of korea but like maybe hawkeye would be a little less buffeted by the outward winds of the world. if any part of the world wouldn’t have buffeted her harder for it, anyways.

i mean, one of mash’s biggest themes at the end of the day is that we’re trapped in the time loop, a small and restrictive and violent thing set up by forces outside of our control that will hurt us if we defy them or dare to do anything the loop doesn’t already contain. and it hurts everyone, all the time, and no one knows why we keep doing it, only that we have to. and hawkeye’s the central victim of this. the time loop is war, the time loop is gender, the time loop is the american empire, the time loop is religion, the time loop is being who you are, forever, as They have forced you to be

[doodling-doodle]

Hey

: )

Do the most angty angst you can muster

Oh Kings

is this a threat or a challenge to make you cry?

Well, ask and you shall receive.

(WARNINGS: Severe injury, coma, medical inaccuracies, amnesia, graphic death/murder, disassociation, breakdowns, mental health struggles)

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

"Price! Come on, stay with me!" Kyle yelled as his eyes rolled back, his grip going lax.

"We need medivac, now!"

They had to wait almost thirty minutes for the evac, and both Kyle and Soap were covered in blood. The medics struggled to get Price stable while they flew back to base. It felt a lot longer. It was all just a blur now.

Soap was changing out of the blood soaked clothes, but Kyle was sitting in the hospital room with Price, hoping he would wake up from surgery. He was shot in the lung, lower abdomen, and shoulder.

The doctors said that it didn't look good.

He just felt... numb right now. Completely numb. Alex was on his way from a mission with Graves, who was probably freaking out right now.

He waited there for three hours, and Ghost, Soap, Laswell, Alex, Farah, and Graves all got there.

Graves was laying next to Price, curling up and holding onto him as if John would hold him back.

Laswell was on the other side of the bed, holding his hand while sobbing quietly.

Ghost was standing behind soap, who was just looking at him blankly.

Farah was sitting next to Alex, whispering something in Arabic while crying.

Alex was holding onto Kyle, tearing up while Kyle just leaned on him, still covered in blood, blankly staring into the distance.

No one spoke. They were just waiting for him to wake up...

Which he did.

"Johnny?!" Graves yelled when he felt him shift, sitting up, "Bear?!"

John held onto his arm, looking around the room, smiling at all of them, and Laswell let Kyle go in front of her to speak to him while Graves cuddled into John, resting his head on his chest.

"Dad...?" Kyle asked quietly, holding his arm.

John smiled up at him, but he shakily pointed to his clothes on the floor, to his jacket.

Kyle picked it up, "What is it?" He asked, looking back at John.

He tried to reach out to him, but...

His hand dropped, eyes rolled back, and the heartbeat monitor flatlined.

Phil, who was still laying on John's chest, head against his heart, screamed, and Ghost quickly pulled him away from John's body, and they all left the room as the nurses ran in.

Alex pulled Kyle to the waiting area, sitting him down while he clutched the jacket in his arms, face blank, while they heard Phil screaming and crying about how he needed to be with John, how he needed to go back, telling Ghost to let go of him.

They just sat there, and Kyle eventually started going through the jacket pockets, finding envelopes, all with names: Simon, Johnny, Kate, Philip, Alex, Farah, and Kyle.

He put the others down, and he opened his, seeing in big letters, "Do not open unless Johnathon Price is missing, dead, or dying."

He shakily opened it, still just feeling numb about it.

"Kyle Garrick,

I am so proud of you. More than you know. Ever since Piccadilly, I knew you were special. But that you needed someone to help you. And I hope that I've done that.

The day you called me 'dad' was one of the best days of my life. And I guarantee that Pops is the same, and the same for Mum. But I love you like my son. You will always be my son.

You brought so much light into my life. A bubbly, bright light of joy was brought into my life.

I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry that this happened. I know that it will not be easy. But know that I will always be here. Even if I'm dead, I will always be here for you.

You're the captain now. I know you are so young, but I trust you to keep the team going, and make it work.

Just stop Makarov for me. Stop him and Sheperd for me. And make sure that they will never come back.

I love you.

-Dad"

He felt a tear roll down his face, onto the letter, and Alex held his hand while he put his own letter away.

"You should know that he threatened me if I didn't take care of you." Alex said, which made him chuckle slightly, but he just looked at the ground, and he picked up the jacket again, feeling his dog tags in his pocket.

He heard someone walk up to them, and then the others, along with Phil's sobbing, and his arms around him.

"What's going on?" Farah asked.

"We stabilized him. however, we had to place him in a coma. We don't know when he'll wake up."

He couldn't hear it anymore. he tuned everything out, and the next thing he knew, he was back in front of John, Phil back cuddling with him...

He was going to get his revenge. He would make Price proud. He would do it. He may not be a proper captain, but he was now.

He looked at the dog tags in his hand, and he slipped the Tags off the chain, and took his own chain to slip them on, along with several other tags of dead friends.

He was getting revenge. Dad wanted him to get revenge.

He would do it by himself.

That night, he went out to the helipads, with only a suppressed shotgun, pistol, and knifes. The chopper had even more. It was Nikolai's, after all.

He was dressed in full black. Jeans, shirt, hat, gloves, mask and tac gear. He wouldn't likely be easy to see.

He got in the chopper, and sat in the pilots seat, sighing slightly. It was Nikolai's stealth bird. He knew how to fly it, but he was worried that he'd be caught.

But he doubted it.

He quickly got set up and got off the ground, flying to where the Konni base was. Where his Dad was shot.

It took a few hours, but he saw it. He saw very few lights on.

He didn't know how long it would take. But everyone there would die. And he would find Makarov.

He landed on a helipad by the water, and he walked the rest of the way to the base, where he could get in through the secret bunker door and kill off most of the people in it.

He snuck in, immediately seeing two guards at the door and shooting them both in the chest, where Dad was shot.

He stood as they fell, trying to reach for their radios as their lungs filled with blood quickly.

"Fuck off." He said quietly, finishing them off by slitting their throats.

He slowly moved out of the room, moving down the hall, going through another door to a security room. Perfect.

He pulled out the shotgun, closing the door before shooting all three people, making sure all of them were dead with a shot to the head.

He checked the cameras, seeing at least twenty in the halls and another security room across this level of the base.

"Alright, then." He said, picking up one of the rifles from a dead guard, and putting a suppressor on it.

He quickly turned off all the camera's before leaving the room, setting it on fire before closing the door.

He found someone alone in the hall, and he stabbed him in the back, where Price was shot from the front, then slitting his throat.

"Fuck you." He whispered as he moved on, going to a bigger area, where there were five. It hurt, but he had to make this one quick.

He took out the rifle, and quickly shot them all in the head, moving on and stepping over the bodies.

There were three more people in the next room, and he slit one's throat, and shot the other two in the head.

"Lights out."

He got to the security room, seeing for more people, and shot them all in the head before going to check the cameras. More on the other side of the hall.

He turned the camera's off, and he went over to shoot them all in the head.

"Never fuck with me." He said, going to the next level of the base.

There were three people in that room, and he shot all three in the neck with his pistol before stabbing them all in the chest.

"Sleep."

He moved to the next room, seeing another five people. He took his rifle, shooting all of them before they noticed him. He shot them all in the head again to make sure.

"Fuck. You."

There were ten in the briefing room. And he took a stun grenade from a dead body to toss it in the room to clear it out without anyone shooting back.

"Go to hell." He took all the intel in that room. "All of you."

He went to what looked like a common room, and he killed all ten in the room while they weren't even armed. They didn't have time to scream. He shot all of them in the head before leaving.

"Don't wake up."

He found the security room, and killed the one person in there before checking the cameras. One more. One more floor that was the least protected.

"Perfect."

He went to the upper level, and he killed the four that were in the first room. In the stomach, then the lungs, then the head.

"None of you deserve to live."

He moved on, seeing empty halls as he dragged blood through them. He felt most of the drops on his face drying, his mask and gloves soaking through to his skin.

There were three more in the briefing room there, and he took his shotgun to kill them all. Gone in seconds.

"Almost."

He went to the last security room, and killed two and kept the last alive. He tied him up, shooting him in the knee.

"Where's Makarov?" He asked calmly.

"Ah, back for revenge, eh? What happened to your little capt-"

He shot him again, hearing him scream. His face was blank.

"Where. Is. Makarov?"

"Why should I-"

Another shot to the other leg.

"Where. Is. Makarov?"

"You-"

Another shot.

"Tell. Me. Where. Makarov. Is."

"It- He's in his base in Moscow."

"Thank you." He took out a piece of paper and a pen, "Location. Now."

He wrote down the coordinates, which Kyle took and looked over before putting it in his pocket.

He slit his throat before walking out.

It was the dead of night when he got there...

It was sunset now.

it felt like no time had passed. But he had been there to kill everyone for at least thirteen hours.

But there were more.

And he was done.

He just went through the catwalks and balconies, and he just killed all of them. Blood. Nothing but blood and bodies were around.

He had stabbed so many of them, he didn't know if some was his blood or not.

He saw a Chopper in the distance.

But he stayed on the mission. He killed the rest, and he heard yelling in the distance.

Everyone looked the same. Faceless.

And he found another.

"Kyle, Stop!"

He barely turned at the voice, and he felt someone taking his guns from him, and he wrestled with them for it back.

"You all can just GO TO HELL-!"

"Kyle, it's me!"

He opened his eyes, and he saw the face of a terrified Alex taking his gun and holding his face.

He felt him wipe the blood away, holding him against his chest, rocking him gently.

"Kyle, its me... it's Alex, okay? I'm here, honey... I'm here."

He felt the numbness slightly melt into confusion, fully feeling the blood caked on his face and clothes.

"How did you find me?" He asked quietly, now registering another emotion for the first time in almost 48 hours. Sadness. Up until then, all he had been feeling was panic, anger, confusion, and complete numbess.

"You have a tracker in your radio." Laswell said as she walked up, "we pinpointed it."

He was still pressed against Alex's chest, eyes filling with tears.

"You scared us all, brother." Farah said as she walked up, "why did you do this?"

"Dad wanted me to stop Makarov."

"Kyle-"

"I have his location. I'll put together a briefing and we'll all go this time but I am killing Makarov alone."

"You can't make that call." Laswell said.

"I am the captain now. Dad made me the captain. I am in charge. Whether you like it or not. I am making sure we stop them..."

He didn't know how he kept his voice from wavering, still being rocked back and forth by Alex.

Laswell sighed, looking away and shaking her head, "Fine." She said, "Get back to the heli, Nik is taking the other one back."

Alex held onto him as they walked to the chopper, seeing that he was fully numb, eyes glazed over, and face blank.

He gently rocked Kyle as they flew back to base, hoping to keep him calm, to get him out of his daze.

Once they got back, Phil jumped towards Kyle holding him tight.

"You scared me to death! Kyle, why would you do this?!"

"Dad wanted me to get revenge..."

"You should've gotten someone to go with you, you could've died! I can't lose you and John, Kyle...! I can't..."

he didn't respond. The next thing he knew, he was back in his and Alex's room, and Alex was getting the blood off of him.

He didn't know what to do now. It finally clicked that he was probably going to lose his dad. He might lose his Pops with it, and his mother...

It was Makarov's fault.

It was his fault...

It wasn't him, he didn't pull the trigger...

But what if he got there faster? What if he took the bullet instead?

Maybe that would've been a better outcome...

"It's been a long time, Kyle." Alex said, kneeling in front of him, unlacing his boots and gently pulling them off, "have you eaten? Or slept?"

He shook his head.

Alex nodded, getting him changed into something more comfortable, and kissing his forehead, "I'm going to go to the mess, get you something to eat. Then your going to get some sleep, okay?"

He nodded.

"Okay." Alex kissed him again, walking out to quickly go to the mess hall.

He wanted Dad.

He finally felt tears welling up, along with sobs, and he just broke down.

Everything had been boiling up for the past 30-something hours, and it all just came out at once...

He wailed. He wailed so hard and couldn't stop, holding his face in his hands.

Alex ran back in shortly after, and held his head against his shoulder, rocking him gently while he waited for Kyle to calm down.

"Let it all out. It's okay, darling." Alex whispered, also tearing up.

"Why?! This isn't fucking fair! It shouldn't have been him!" He wailed, clawing at Alex's back.

He calmed down after fifteen minutes, now just sobbing in Alex's shirt.

"He's strong, baby." Alex said, tears in his eyes, "He'll pull through."

He nodded, pulling back slightly and looking down while Alex grabbed the food and laid them down. The tears never stopped, but he calmed down a little, Alex gently bringing the food to his mouth, letting him eat at his own pace.

"Alright, sit up for a minute." Alex said, and Kyle nodded, sitting up as Alex grabbed the tea, giving it to him and letting him drink it slowly.

Kyle gave the empty mug back, and Alex set it on the side table before laying them down.

"Sleep, darling." Alex whispered, "We'll figure out what to do later."

One week later...

They had tracked down Makarov. Got to the safehouse. He wasn't alone this time.

It was a blur. He didn't remember much of this night. He would probably never remember it.

But he would remember seeing Makarov on the glass roof. He, Ghost, and Alex were up there, about to kill him and make it hurt.

And then there was... something. An explosion, probably.

He was knocked to the ground, looking around and trying to find the others.

He heard footsteps, and he looked up to see an injured Makarov, holding his side and holding out a pistol.

It only registered what was happening two seconds later, hearing him say something.

"Goodbye, Sergeant Garrick."

He heard Alex scream.

"NO!!"

He heard the gun go off, and Ghost trying to wrestle the gun out of Makarov's hands.

No.

This was his time. His turn.

He was killing him.

he quickly stood, punching Makarov and tackling him to the ground.

He grabbed... something. He didn't know what it really was at first, but his mind was on auto-pilot. It was cable.

He wrapped it around Makarov's neck, seeing him struggle but not able to fight too hard.

"Kyle, what are you doing?!" He heard Ghost yell.

He slammed Makarov against the glass. It cracked.

He did it again. It cracked more.

He did it again. It shattered.

They both fell through the roof, Kyle falling on a catwalk, groaning as he sat up.

He watched as Makarov swung from the cable, trying to reach his neck and untie himself.

He stopped moving.

He heard Alex over comms, yelling about how they were coming down.

He just...

He wasn't satisfied. Makarov didn't actually die by his hands. He died because of a cable.

It wasn't enough.

He stood, shooting the cable until it snapped, seeing him fall to the ground, and he went down to him, drawing his knife.

He just started gutting Makarov. He gutted him like a dead fucking fish, stabbed him in the throat, stabbed him in the head, gouged his eyes out, nearly snapped his spine, nearly snapped his leg off, and an arm.

He was breathing heavily. He looked at what he had done...

And he smiled.

He fucking smiled.

"This is what you deserve." He whispered, kneeling back down over his body.

He looked back over his work, and he took the dog tags that hung around his neck.

"This is my reward for my suffering. The end for you."

He stood, seeing a jug of gasoline, and he took it, dumping all of it on Makarov.

"Gori v adu, kusok der'ma." He said before throwing his lighter on Makarov's dead body.

He watched as it went up in flames, smiling softly.

"Kyle!"

He turned at Alex's voice, seeing them run up.

And then he felt all the emotions come back. Panic, sadness, fear...

Alex wrapped him up in his arms, quickly walking away and whispering to him, hearing Ghost say something into his radio, Laswell on the other side.

Next thing he knew, he was on a chopper, still holding the dog tags.

He must've passed out, because then he was in his and Alex's room, Alex taking his blood-soaked gear off, and taking the dog tags.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Alex said softly, pulling him off the bed.

He pulled him into a warm bath, and he saw blood immediately fill the water, Alex gently washing his hair off, saying something to him, though he didn't hear it.

"Kyle?"

He blinked, glancing over at Alex, who was washing his arm off.

"What happened?"

He looked down, eyes filling with tears, finally, as he spoke.

"I... I didn't like how he died..." He said, "I decided he needed to suffer more. I gutted him. Took the tags..."

Alex nodded, gently washing his face off, "he was already dead though, right?"

He nodded.

"Did you set him on fire?"

He nodded again.

"Was there anyone else there that you killed?"

He shook his head.

"Just Makarov?"

He nodded.

"Why did you take the Dog Tags?"

He looked down, feeling Alex start to dry him off.

"My trophy."

Alex nodded, draining the water and pulling him out to dry him off easier, "Then hang it. I'll get a frame."

He smiled softly, taking the robe Alex offered him, "I was just going to hang it with a knife."

"That works." Alex said, smiling softly and pulling him up, "Let's get you dressed and in bed."

"Can we see Dad first?"

Alex sighed quietly, but nodded, "Alright." He said, pulling Kyle with him gently to get him dressed.

They went to Price's hospital room, seeing Phil still asleep on the bed, clutching John's left hand, his engagement ring.

John had proposed a few months ago. They were happily planning their wedding, Phil had wanted it in July, by a beach...

Now this.

"Pops?"

He turned to look, and he smiled softly, gesturing for Kyle to come closer, and he did, Phil sitting up to hold him.

"Kyle... Bud, your strong, you know that, right?"

He nodded.

"You'll get through this." Phil said, "He'll wake up. Don't worry."

But he would. And He could hear the barely hidden fear in his voice.

"What about you, Alex?" Phil asked, looking up at him, "How are you holding up?"

"About as well as everyone else." He replied, sitting on the bed, holding Kyle's hand, seeing his own engagement ring. They wanted to get married on Christmas. John was supposed to walk Kyle down the aisle...

"I think it will work out." Phil said, "He'll wake up soon. We can get Shepherd. And it'll all be okay."

Kyle hoped so.

Three months later...

They had tracked down Shepherd. They could kill him easily.

John was still asleep. He had been transferred to a nearby care center, giving him better around-the-clock care, but they could still easily see him. Which Phil and Laswell did every day.

But none of them were doing much better. In fact, most of them had gotten worse.

Kyle lost that bubbly, bright light. Now, it was a dull shine at most, wearing darker clothes, following Ghost's method of not wanting to be seen, and wearing masks to cover the lower half of his face. They had barely seen his face since Price was placed in a coma. Alex and Phil saw it the most.

Kyle had officially been promoted to Lieutenant, allowing him to officially make decisions for the 141.

He had been allowed to use Price's office, which he didn't change at all, other than adding a heater and Makarov's dog tags.

Alex had been promoted with him, Soap and Ghost declined the promotions, because Ghost didn't want to risk Kyle being knocked back behind him.

And now they could get Shepherd. Graves sent in a few Shadows to get Shepherd in a transport, would knock him out, and then bring him to the base.

They were already on the way back with him after slipping his drink.

Phil was going to help him interrogate and kill him.

Kyle smiled as he saw the chopper land, the Shadows dragging Shepherd out to an interrogation.

"You ready?" Phil asked.

"Of course." He responded, going up next to Shepherd.

He woke him up, slamming his head on the table.

It was a blur from there, but, apparently, Phil got everything they needed out of Shepherd. Where he was, safehouse locations, intel...

Now they could kill him. And he wasn't making the mistake he did with Makarov.

"Step out, Commander." He said. He didn't want Shepherd to make Phil feel even more vulnerable by calling him "pops"

"Lieutenant, no-"

"You don't want to see what I am about to do."

Phil sighed, nodding and walking out. But he decided to watch through the window.

He took out his knife, stabbing Shepherd in the ribs, hearing a scream that turned to a wheeze when he stabbed higher, his lungs filling with his own blood.

He then stabbed his stomach, watching the blood pool on the floor. he stabbed him in the neck.

He watched as he writhed in pain. He watched as the blood stopped flowing out.

He was dead.

Kyle wiped the blood off his knife, walked out and saw Phil and a Shadow.

"Burn the body."

"Yes, sir." The Shadow replied, walking in the room to drag the body away in a bag.

He walked out, going to his room to wash all the blood off of himself. Alex was helping Laswell finalize mission reports, but, he knew that, if he was there, he'd be helping and telling him that he did the right thing.

He was either always crying or showing no emotion. Alex was begging him to talk to a therapist, or at least him. At this point, he was considering it.

He just... didn't know what to do. His dad was dying. He felt lost...

He sighed as he got out of the shower, dried off and got dressed. He texted Alex before leaving.

"I'm going to see Dad. Can you come once your done with Mum?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

He walked to the care center, went to Price's room, sat next to him, and took off his mask.

"Shepherd's gone, Dad." He said, "You can wake up now. Makarov and Shepherd are gone. I'm Lieutenant now... Please? Wake up?... Pops is still wearing his ring. I still want you to walk me down the aisle... Please?"

He just sat there.

Phil walked in after a while. He immediately laid on John's chest, snuggling close to him, wrapping his arm around himself.

Alex walked in after that, holding onto Kyle as he sat down, "Any progress?" He asked, and Phil shook his head.

"Shepherd's dead." Kyle mumbled.

"Good." Alex replied, nodding, "Now what?"

"We wait for what's next." Phil said.

One year later...

Things had been... okay... kind of.

Most of them had started therapy, Kyle and Phil were on Anti-depressants, heavier then Soap and Alex were taking.

Laswell had been on leave for a while.

Kyle and Alex were close to being promoted to Captians. It was surreal to them.

John was still asleep.

Phil was lost, he was still wearing his ring and he was still slowly planning the wedding for the day John woke up.

Kyle had asked Alex to postpone the wedding, which he agreed to. They still wanted John to walk him down the aisle. They would want for the day.

Soap was still struggling with himself, he watched as John was downed and could do nothing, he watched as he passed out and was with Ghost as he dragged Phil out of that hospital room, he had to help hold him down as he screamed at them To let him go back to John.

Ghost was... he would never admit it, but he was struggling so much. He would sometimes lay on John and sob. He would be in his office, crying while he held Soap. He was suffering just as much...

Missions had been slow. They hadn't had much trouble with Makarov anymore. Now that he was killed- and so brutally, for that matter- they were not hearing a single thing anymore.

Kyle had been in charge of whatever they were doing. He has only done something like this a few times before, and not as long. But Phil said he was doing amazing.

He was hoping John would wake up soon, though.

He had gotten him a Christmas gift last year. He left it in his room at the center to unwrap when he woke up. But he didn't.

He left a birthday present for him. He took the time to date it that time, and dated the Christmas present.

He left a Father's Day gift. He dated that one too.

It was already Christmas again.

At the end of the day, They all went to his room with gifts, spending a good few hours with him, all of them leaving the gifts, though Phil spent the night, smiling at John's heartbeat.

"The kids miss you, bear..." he whispered, "You need to wake up... Kyle really needs you... But he is doing great. But I don't think he wants to be a Captain yet..."

He curled up under the blankets, feeling John's warmth on his body.

"I love you, bear. I can't wait to get married to you."

Six months later...

They had found Valeria.

Kyle had been promoted to captain, and Alex was with him throughout it all. Was promoted with him.

and now, they were keeping Valeria in a cell before putting her in jail for her charges.

"Well, I guess a few years changes a lot of things, eh?" She asked once she heard Kyle's new rank.

"It's not relevant." He replied as he sat down.

"I've already given you my intel, pleaded guilty, and signed away all my rights." She said, leaning forward, "It's not like your here for any more intel. I gave you everything I have. So why not chat about it?"

"You first. Why did you plead guilty and sign everything away?"

She shrugged, leaning back, "I have nothing to lose. No family left. I have no one to love. So, why should I fight? You have my cartel in your hands, Alejandro and Rodolfo are probably making arrests as we speak. I have nothing."

He nodded, pretty shocked at the reasoning.

"So why are you captain now?"

He went numb. It was the first time he was numb in quite some time. He started to get better... but now he was talking about it.

"Captain Price is in a coma. He has been for nearly two years. I was promoted to his rank." Was all he said.

"Oh... That... holy shit..."

"You can stew over that in prison." He said, standing, "You're leaving tomorrow. You know your sentence."

He left, seeing her fidget with her handcuffs and looking down.

He wondered if she really cared. About anything.

He wondered if she noticed how his voice was deeper. How he dressed. She couldn't have missed the mask...

But he didn't care much about her, so why the fuck should he care?

He just went back to his room to sleep.

He woke up screaming from another nightmare, Alex holding onto him and whispering to him that it was okay.

It was not. It never would be.

He had therapy that day. It helped a little. His meds helped a little more. Family helped a little more.

Good. he didn't feel numb.

Alex decided they should go out that night for dinner. A fancy restaurant, one of Kyle's favorite.

It made him feel happy for the first time in a while.

Six months later...

It had been two years since John went into a coma.

Every time that any specific date that involved John came around, the base was quiet. Somber.

All of them had barely been on leave. Both Kyle and Phil had spent a week each in a mental hospital. Kyle had a breakdown after a particularly hard day, and a visiting Major yelling at him for some stupid mistake. He said that it was his fault that John was in a coma.

Phil was with John, laying on him as he flatlined again. He ended up having a breakdown of his own from that.

Kyle screamed and cried in his room, throwing things around and breaking a few picture frames. He gave Alex a few bruises and cuts in the blind rage. Medics came to sedate Kyle and treat Alex's wounds. After an emergency therapy appointment and a Psych eval, Kyle was placed on psychiatric leave for a week in a mental hospital, barely managing to pass the follow-up and allowed back in the field.

Phil was fighting with a few nurses, then with Ghost to stop him from going back in the room.

John was revived. Still asleep.

Phil was crying and yelling, and he passed out. He was moved to the med bay on base before the mental hospital.

He spent the week there and was put on desk duty, not allowed to see John for two weeks. It helped and hurt. Because he was very dependent on seeing John to function.

Kyle was picked up by Alex, and he was crying nonstop, trying to apologize but the words were hard to form. Alex still had plasters and stitches. He just held onto Kyle while he sobbed, still saying "I'm sorry" over and over.

Alex was, admittedly, a little angry when it happened. more at the circumstances than Kyle, but, it was the reaction more than anything. He was scared. He had cleaned the room and replaced the picture frames, making sure Kyle came home to a clean room. He just sobbed more at that. It really made him realize what he did. But they talked about it, very calmly, and Alex promised that he'd help him find better ways to cope.

Ghost picked Phil up from the hospital, not really reacting when he apologized at least twenty times. He had already written an apology to the care center, which is when he found out we wouldn't be able to see John for a while. But Ghost just dropped him off at the base before driving off. He texted him so many times, begging for a response. Ghost only responded with a few things, but he did say that he didn't blame him. He was stuck doing a bunch of paperwork, though Kyle, Alex, and Laswell came to see him came to see him the most. Soap and Ghost came by some.

They both were doing a little better now. Kyle had been finding ways to calm down. Phil had been trying to not be as reliant on seeing John.

Kyle went to a rage room every once in a while. Alex often went with him, and every time, they'd actually start giggling together and make a game out of hitting targets.

But John was still asleep. And nothing was okay yet. Not truly okay, anyway.

But at least it was better.

Even just a little.

One year later...

Phil sighed as he laid on John's chest, stroking his cheek softly.

It had officially been three years since John fell into a coma. None of them truly felt okay.

Kyle had been taking so many pictures of missions, the team, and everything that had been going on... for when he woke up.

He and Alex were still Captain's and working on mission briefings. They were helping Ale and Rodolfo with dealing with the leftovers of Las Almas Cartels.

Ghost and Soap were there, about to come back.

Laswell had been helping Kyle and Alex through all the planning.

"Bear... Could you wake up? Please?" He whispered, shifting to lay on him more how he used to, and putting John's hand on his head...

He felt his hand grip his hair.

His eyes shot open, "John?!" He yelled, shifting to sit up and gently touching John's face.

His eyes fluttered open with a groan, and he said in a raspy voice, "Cr-Cricket?"

"Bear... Bear, it's me... Don't worry about talking right now... I'm getting the nurse." He jumped up, running out to the hall.

He texted Kyle, Laswell, and Ghost as he ran back in the room.

...

Kyle sighed as he finished up the stack of paperwork. Alex gently touched his shoulder as he stacked them back up, "Well, we got it done. What now?"

"I don't know..." Kyle said, hearing his phone go off, and he picked it up-

"He's awake."

Was the text from Phil.

"Kyle?" Alex asked, looking at the text and also freezing.

They both sat there for at least three minutes before Kyle stood, getting his stack of photos, and Alex went with him out of the room.

They ran to the care center, and Kyle sighed as he got to the door to the room.

"You go ahead, Kyle." Alex said, smiling, "I'll come in after you."

Kyle nodded, taking his mask off and knocking on the door.

"Come in." Phil said, and he slowly opened the door.

"Hey..." He said softly, smiling when he saw his dad sitting up in bed for the first time in three years, nurses around the bed while Phil laid on him.

John looked a little confused, choking out, "Who are you?"

No.

No.

This wasn't happening.

This was a joke.

"It... It's me, Dad..." He said, "It's Kyle..."

"I never had kids."

Phil looked up at him, seeing the look in his eyes.

He watched as two years of progress in therapy was undone in seconds.

Kyle looked down, "I apologize, sir." He said quietly, gently placing the stack of pictures on the bed.

He looked back up at him, straightening up, glancing at Phil, who looked so worried.

"Goodbye."

A simple word he said a lot.

But it would be the last time he said it to him.

He walked out, softly closing the door, seeing Alex looking confused.

"Dad doesn't remember me."

Alex was shocked, but nodded softly, taking his hand, "Let's go." He said, "Let's talk about what to do."

They silently walked back to the base, and Alex sat Kyle down, getting him tea and snacks, holding him gently.

"So. What do we do?" Kyle asked.

Alex sighed, kneeling in front of him to hold his hands.

"As much as this hurts to say... It's the best idea, for your sake... to leave."

It didn't shock him. He knew as soon as he heard his Dad ask who he was, he knew he wouldn't be able to stay. This was the end.

The end of Captain Gaz Garrick of the 141. The end of Captain Alex Keller of the 141.

They had to leave.

He called his Pops from his room, Alex holding onto him.

"Kyle, are you okay?" He asked, clearly very worried.

"I'm fine... Alex and I are packing, we're going to transfer."

There was a long pause...

"Okay. But, please... Don't let us lose you completely."

"You won't. I'll still be in touch."

"Good... I'll help with the paperwork, we promote Ghost and let you go."

"Thank you."

They got their room packed in two days. The paperwork was done for Ghost to be in charge. He was now Captain Reily, and Soap was Lieutenant Mactavish.

They were at the helipad, Kyle wearing his mask as they said their goodbyes. Phil was sobbing in Ghost's arms as they left. He hoped he'd see his boy again soon...

Once they got to their new base, they were allowed to make their own new team. Thankfully, an old friend of Kyle's was also there, and they got her on their Task Force... Unofficially, for now, until they could actually make the Task Force.

They had to fill out paperwork for new dog tags and officially transferred to a new team. Names and callsigns.

Alexander "Alex" Keller.

Kyle "Specter" Garrick.

He couldn't be... "Gaz" anymore. He lost that long ago. Now, it would just remind him of what he couldn't have.

They decided to stop postponing the wedding. Kyle decided, really, and Alex agreed.

"It's not like Dad could walk me down the aisle now anyway. Pops can if he wants to. I just want us to get married now..."

Phil was happy to do it.

They finally were able to get married on Christmas that year. The 141 came... Price wasn't there. Kyle almost didn't care.

They were so happy... Kyle was genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. It was so perfect. Beautiful.

Kyle had to sign new paperwork now that his last name changed...

Kyle "Specter" Keller.

It felt much better. It further detached him from Price.

He would always call him Dad, he would always love him. But he would never want to see him again. Not willingly.

He felt like he lost three years of his life. He did everything for him... It wasn't John's fault. He knew it wasn't. But it still hurt. So much.

But this was life now. It wasn't what they wanted, but it was what they got stuck with.

The years went by rather quickly. The more Kyle blocked out the feelings about Price, the more he seemingly got better. But he wasn't. Therapy was fine, sometimes it helped.

He wanted to detach himself from him. But he wanted him in his life. He put up all the pictures he had of them together in his and Alex's house. He put a few in his office...

Alex was trying to help, but he was struggling just as much. he didn't want to leave the 141, but he knew it was the only thing they could do at that point.

Farah would still come to visit from Urzikstan. She'd try and help them, get them in town, out on a walk, or to a restaurant... Anything to get their minds off of work and Price... He remembered her. Not everything about her, but he remembered her.

They didn't hear much after they left. Not that they wanted to know, Price probably wasn't making great progress. Phil said that he was getting a few memories back. Not about them.

And by that time, it had been two years.

It had been five years since he lost his Dad.

And he doubted that he was going to get him back.

Ever.

[thoughtfulfangirling]

I don't know too much about the horrors Shelley Duvall underwent during the making of The Shining, but I've heard just enough to know that it was at the very least unethical. And sure we can marvel at her performance of fear and horror. It was impressive.

But it also manages, to people who are me, to fall flat in its lack of dimension.

People suffering the sort of torment Wendy are under are not only experiencing fear, confusion, and horror. They're also angry and vindictive and vengeful at times.

What if they'd let her fully act the fear so that she could have pulled back and displayed a glimmer of satisfaction when she hit Jack with the bat, a sense of the hilarious/humor as he went head over heels down the stairs? What I wouldn't have given for a sense of rage and fury as she dragged him through the halls of the hotel to lock him in the pantry. A woman dealing with the shit that she's been under would probably have a moment of sadistic satisfaction when he cries out that she may have really hurt him, he's dizzy, and now he wants that doctor she'd mention.

Sure those may be things that at the time might not have gotten written into a script because maybe at that time, women weren't like that(tm). But that's exactly why Duvall should have been left the choice to act with all her wits about her. Actors bring small nuanced moments like that to roles all the time because they are the ones trying to fit their minds into it wholly and completely and without consultation of any of the other characters around them. And they can bring insights into that role that others may not have thought to.

Think Furiosa re her scream in the desert. That was Theron's idea. And when asked where she found that rage—a question that maybe, in a different world, Duvall might have been able to make the space for—she responded that women just have that rage. A good actress will find it and put it where it's needed to go, in places her male coworkers might not think to put that.

Sure I don't think there was any performing better than she did during the bathroom scene, but almost everywhere else, I just got so tired of the constant fear/sadness of the performance, which I believe is exactly what was aimed at by the creators for the film. It was exhausting not in a way that makes me feel Wendy's exhaustion, but made her a caricature that she didn't deserve being.

There's nothing wrong with someone in her situation feeling mostly fear and terror, but it's absurd to think it's just that.

Fuck. Where was the disassociation? We got it maybe for the moment she sliced Jack's hand?

I dunno. I'm sure many people have spoken on this much better than me before and probably having seen it more than one (1) single time and have better, more sophisticated thoughts. It was a good movie. I don't recall anyone putting Jack through shit to get his performance and he did a great job, with lots of various emotions throughout. Let actors do their job.

[kronos-lungbarrow-oakdown]

50 followers special

Wanna talk about media that literally describe the Doctor? Or even Doctor and the Master? Here:

I can't think of a music that fits War!Master, War!Doctor, Simm!Master (last sanction) and Twelfth Doctor better than this one.

However, the part of this music that most gets to me and makes me think about them is this:

So you wanna start a war?

In the age of icons?

So you wanna be immortal?

With a loaded gun on?

For me it portrays them on point because the War!versions, Simm!Master and Twelfth were all fighting - somehow - against the tyranny of Rassilon and of Gallifreyan's political structure as whole!

And the tone of the music - in my opinion implies that "the age of icons" isn't something inherently good. It is meant to signify that it's an age of "heroes". The word "icons" is purposefully chosen.

The Oxford language dictionary defines "icon" as "a person or thing regarded as a representative symbol or as worthy of of veneration" which in Gallifrey comes with power, position and poise.

The Master and the Doctor did nothing but demonstrate all of those three on the years following their departure from Gallifrey - in their own ways.

The Eighth Doctor & War!Doctor.

When the Doctor is called back he runs from war, yes. He is relatively young and doesn't have as many burdens as Twelfth does but he still afraid of what he might become. He knows the potential he has of becoming object of immense power to be wielded against the universe he loves so much. There is no doubt that they will, Gallifrey changed history of whole planets to have their "help" - aka time manipulation at its finest.

War Master

The Master on the time war might be doing unhinged things but he probably loathes himself for obeying the orders coming from the country that did nothing but reject him and, yes, his old friends from long ago. The Master knows how cold he can go to disassociate his actions in the name of Gallifrey from himself... until he forgets himself.

They both are forces to be reckoned. Aware of their potential and the damage they can do to themselves and the universe.

Call me crazy, but I don't think the Master wanted for the universe to prostrate itself on its knees for him this way. He is very autonomous and independent and most of all individualistic. He wants it to himself not to give it to Gallifrey.

On the other hand we have the post-war; Simm!Master and Twelfth Doctor which not only put to prove what they could do but - I imagine - went beyond what they thought capable of do and with this comes the disgust they must have felt at... everything.

I believe that once you go through something like this you can't really pinpoint what you are disgusted at, what or who you are angry at. You just are. You just feel.

[hekate-brimo2]

The following is an interview performed by the Informal League of Laboring Evil Geniuses, Arch-nemesis’s, and the Loathsome, to be used in I.L.L.E.G.A.L. Inter-office reports and propaganda only. Any duplication of this document is unlawful and will result in the full force of the League’s power raining down upon you.

Interview Subject: “Maestrum Gravis,” independent Villain, and occasional consultant for The League. Pronouns They/Them

Interviewer: Dr. Hartford Cordell, Aka “Mindsweeper.” Pronouns She/Her

Interview begun recording at 10:13 am UTC, April 20th, 2024

Interviewer: Good Morning, Maestrum. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.

Subject: You as well, Doctor.

I: Now, I’m sure the President has been vague about why you’ve been invited, suffice to say, he is… well, used to keeping his plans behind closed doors until he…

S: Maniacally recites them to his Enemies? Yeah that does sound like Giles.

I: President McArthur initiated a program this year that he calls the Alexandria Project, he wants to have the backstories of all known “Supers” recorded and filed for future posterity.

S: And I bet he wants adaptation rights when Hollywood comes calling. Whatever, I don’t really have anything better to do. Shall I begin?

I: Please.

S: What do you know about the Halcyon project, Doctor?

I: Nothing, I haven’t heard about it.

S: That’s probably for the best. The Halcyon project was an attempt to defy physics, its goal was ultimately to create linked wormholes by using Graviton Pulses to warp space-time. I was still young when I joined the project, and not nearly cynical enough, because I truly believed in it.

I: What Happened to the Halcyon Project, Maestrum?

S: I happened. The main Graviton Pulse generator needed to be calibrated daily, I trusted a tech to do it, but… something malfunctioned partway through the test that day, the Pulse generator began pulsing too fast, and Gravity began to alternate between too high and too low within the test facility. I raced to turn off the pulse generator, but just as I did, two Graviton Pulses collided, which successfully created a wormhole. I would have been elated, had I not been shunted through said wormhole, while my entire test facility imploded.

I: My goodness, how did you survive?

S: Luck, mostly. A secondary wormhole opened a few moments later and dropped me almost a mile away.

I: Did anyone else survive this accident?

S: No.

I: And how did this contribute to your decision to become a Supervillain?

S: I maintain that I’m not a villain, but… I tried to stop anyone from recreating the Halcyon Project, the military has been trying to weaponize it for years, and the government keeps writing grants to pay for it. I usually destroy the testing site, hack into the project’s bank account, and funnel the government grants into my own pockets.

I: I understand that this incident also gave you powers, can you elaborate on those?

S: I have localized control over Gravity, I can increase or decrease the force of Gravity within… oh, about a hundred yard diameter at the largest, I can open linked wormholes to transport myself, and I have an incredibly dense skeletal and muscular system.

I: Any upcoming schemes you have planned, Maestrum?

S: Nope, not that I’d tell the League if I did. Are we done?

I: We can be, Thank you for your time.

Recording ended 10:20 am UTC, April 20th, 2024

I walked from the I.L.L.E.G.A.L. Headquarters, sure I had the wormholes and could go anywhere I wanted, but… Evilmart is right there. I disassociated a little while wandering through the aisles, making the mistake of looking into a magic mirror at one point and stopping. I looked like shit. My hair was a rat’s nest of black tufts, my skin was pale, and my cobalt-blue eyes were surrounded by deep black circles.

“You look exhausted, would you like to see what you could be?” The mirror asked, using its best suck-up voice

“Shut up.” I answered, walking away

I was wandering down the Death Ray aisle when one of the Evilmart employees strode up beside me, she was wearing one of the dark blue and black polo shirts that marked a manager in the store. She handed me a coffee that I almost dropped in my confusion.

“Thank you?” I said, always as polite as I could be

“No prob, I wasn’t sure how you took it, so it’s just cream and three sugars, same as mine.” Laura (as her name tag proclaimed) said

“Is this a storewide promotion, or am I getting special treatment?”

Laura smiled a bit and leaned against one of Dr. Delirious’s old doomsday machines before answering “Well, It’s a… a thank you, my uh… my brother henched for Krieg a few years back, you, uh… you convinced him to quit, right before making sure he couldn’t work for Krieg anymore.”

I grimaced, not fond of remembering that fight.

“Krieg was a fascist dickhead. He gave Supervillains a bad name. I’m a Bad Guy not a Bad Guy. Someone had to take him down a notch, and… well nobody else wanted to.”

“People like to talk, a lot of the Henchmen/Minion union talks about some of the Villains here not being good at their jobs. I think it’s pretty funny, especially since you’ve done my family specifically so much good.”

I shrugged. “They call me a villain because I challenge the status quo. All I’ve ever been trying to do is keep people from making the same mistakes I did.”

“So your Rivalry with The Patriot is what? Just a facade?”

“Ugh. That Idiot. He’s so fucking dedicated to the idea of ‘American Ideals’ he’s ignoring actual ideals like… oh, I dunno Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. I think he’s mostly a face for the military-industrial complex.”

“He really hates you.”

“He hates that I won’t let America weaponize my powers. And he hates that I killed a fuckton of I.C.E. Agents, but again-“

“Fascist Dickheads.” We said together

—

I opened a wormhole outside of Evilmart, making small Graviton Pulses in my hand and carefully compressing the point of space-time just above my palm until it was no longer a point and instead a hole. I enlarged the hole until it was big enough and stepped through with my groceries. I knew I was in trouble when the Alarms in my lair were sounding. I had entered in the lobby, because I’d intended to stop by the kitchen to see Cook and put away the more obscure groceries I’d bought, but that was, of course, the wrong decision. As I stepped out of my wormhole, I was met almost immediately with The Patriot’s fist in my face. I decreased the gravity below me and jumped, taking the punch in my shoulder instead.

“What have you done with my Son?!” The Patriot screamed

“Your What?” I answered dumbly

“Our Son!” American Girl said from the corner, darting at you at not-quite top speed.

“Alright.” I said, increasing the gravity in the whole compound, not enough to hurt anybody, but enough to make moving difficult. The Patriot and American Girl obviously hadn’t brought their charged Magnetite belts, probably in their haste, because they also froze in place. I let out the weakest Graviton Pulse I had, and waited the nanosecond it took to return, counting the living beings it bounced off of. There were six people in my lair, not counting myself, which was three more than usual. Two I knew, The Patriot and American Girl, the third intrigued me.

“Alright, everybody just stay still for a couple minutes.”

Dismissing the gravitational effect from the area around just myself always took a little extra effort, but not so much that it wasn’t worth it in this instance. I took the spiral staircase in the corner two steps at a time, and punched in the code to open the door when I reached the top. The door led into the sitting room/bar of my complex, with its low red couches and shiny black floor. Sitting on the table, with their face against their knees was a child… well, a teenager. They had the same ice-blue eyes as The Patriot, and the same curly blonde hair as American Girl. They wore a red and white baseball tee and jeans over chunky black motorcycle boots and their wrists were adorned by rudder and chain bracelets. I didn’t notice the black eye and drooping cheek until I looked closely. Fire flashed in my eyes, and the kid didn’t see it, but my staff around the room, either sitting or standing did.

I dismissed the gravitational effect in a circle around my sitting room. Tom Doniphon, my medic, was lying on one couch, his cowboy hat crumpled by my powers. Carson, my Aide de Camp, sat barefoot and cross legged on the other couch in their leggings and tank top as though they’d just come from the gym. Finally, Cook, in her ever-present chef’s jacket stood with her arms crossed, my power never seemed to affect her, but then neither did anyone else's.

“My Dear Staff, why is this Child in our home?” I asked

“I begged for sanctuary.” The teenager answered before anyone else could speak. Their voice was halting, and pitched up intentionally, certainly not their natural voice.

“And I granted it. I made an executive decision since you weren’t here.” Carson said, shrugging

“You certainly did, Carson. Doniphon, what do you make of their cheek?”

“‘Tween the black eye and the way it’s saggin’ I’d say a fractured zygomatic arch, though I’m not sure whether it was a punch or a slap.” Doniphon drawled

“A slap, I would guess, from… your mother?”

“Dad would’ve dealt more damage.” The teenager whispered

“Indeed. Your name, child.”

The teen hesitated, and I held up a hand “It need not be your given name, just what you wish to be called here.”

“Kayla.”

“As you wish, and your pronouns?”

“She/Her.”

“Do you have a Healing Factor, like your father?”

“It’s… it’s weak.”

I nodded and said “Doniphon, take the girl to the infirmary. What shall I do with your parents, Kayla?”

The girl’s response was uncertain, until I made it clear that I would not hesitate to end their lives, which she did not want, so I swore to leave them alive and returned to my lobby.

I stepped off of the stairs loudly, leaning my whole body weight into it. I look thin, but the density of my bones and muscles mean I’m heavy. Needless to say, my steps make noise when I want them to. The Heroes' eyes turned toward me, though their bodies couldn’t, and I met both pairs in turn. The Patriot was furious, his anger almost commanded the room, but my fury was larger, colder. American Girl shrunk in place, away from my presence.

“You both have committed a sin far greater than any I may claim. You have stolen innocence and peace from the heart of a child. I may kill, but violence is not what moves me.” I said, voice even and slightly accented

The Patriot’s mouth opened to scream, but in the instance it did, I reversed the gravity from underneath him, sending his body rocketing against the ceiling. A bit of flesh and blood dropped from his height, and I realized he’d bit off the tip of his tongue.

“I would kill you if I could. Condemn your souls to the pits of Hell they belong in, but the child you brought into this world is possessed of a kindness you have both lost.”

I ended my lecture by removing the gravity underneath them both, and clenching my fist, sending a wave of Graviton Pulses crashing against their bodies, and sending them flying through the window and into Humboldt Bay.

—

I want to make it clear that this work is HEAVILY based on the Synoverse by @wingedcat13 which I have read twice in the last two days. Go Read that, it’s better. It’s also posted on my AO3 in the following link

[yantao-enthusiast]

hey y’all so i’ve been worried that i’m overreacting and questioning whether i should bring it up with my therapist because i’m starting to have suspicions about if i have chronic fatigue? but also i’m wondering if it’s just the depression or anxiety (i’ve been officially diagnosed with those) that’s been causing me to be so tired within the last few years? after talking it through with one of my best friends, i’m like is it just hormones? is it my horrible and inconsistent sleep schedule? is it just because i’m lazy?

so i’m just gonna put my symptoms into a post and see if anyone on tumblr has anything to say (not that it really counts as an official diagnosis or anything but it’d be nice to have some feedback from people who have chronic fatigue or are experienced in the field yk)

anyways so as stated earlier i’m like known for my horrible messed up sleep schedule. it’s never consistent though it’s been getting better recently imo! though when i wake up i’m still at least somewhat tired, like i have a dull headache, or before prozac, like my eyes were aching. it takes me hours to get out of bed unless i have something to do because even that feels like a chore. i can hardly bring myself to do things like eat even if i’m hungry or consistently shower or brush my teeth most days (to the point of my teeth rotting actually) let alone do chores (which lord knows my mother has complained about for like a decade).

i actually had to drop out of high school because i was just so tired and hardly felt motivated or had the energy to go to school which i had chalked up to depression. ever since middle school actually, i’ve been tardy and truant probably half the days, to the point where a social worker had to come and see me after a 30 day absence from school. and days when i did go to school, by the end of the day i was falling asleep on my backpack in the car line. and even now when i’m not even in school at the moment due to being afraid i won’t be able to handle the workload of college, i still get tired walking around a large grocery store or just in a long car ride. for probably over half my life i feel as if i’ve been disassociating and tired even after the 8 hour recommended rest.

also idk if this is relevant but light sensitivity was mentioned when i googled it but it feels like sunlight has always made me tired? like i always chalked it up to me being more nocturnal from associating daylight with stressors like school but i thought it might be relevant to mention idk.

oh and also it feels like my muscles are always cramped like if you crumpled up a piece of paper then tried to straighten it again and mostly in my back. like it doesn’t bother me too bad but it’s not exactly pleasant

i’m just worried because it feels like i’m trying everything to combat my depression and even now i don’t think it’s that bad rn so i genuinely don’t think it’s just me holding myself back mentally? i don’t know if i need stronger medication for my depression or if there’s something else like chronic fatigue happening but i thought i’d ask to see if anyone has any insight or advice on if it’s worth bringing up to my doctor or therapist ?

[corvidat]

Vent tw ig

(Tw for autistic burnout, medication mention, ranting, general despair, and other stuff I might come back and add)

I’m just feeling so burnt out recently. I’m not even diagnosed autistic (diagnosed w/ ADHD about 2nd grade) and that makes trying to explain this shit to people so much harder. I’m 99% that I’m AuDHD but the constant high expectations and underlying financial stress and little mentions of “you’re just lazy” and stuff like that from people is really starting to get to me.

On a side note, I wrote an entire 3-4 page essay +bibliography on ADHD for my school counselor for some sort of meeting she was going to (she put the offer up and I absolutely went for it). I made sure to go really in-depth on several topics (probably would have wrote a longer essay if not for the 1 week deadline) and made sure to include extra paragraphs on links between ADHD and other neurodiversites, specifically autism. I was also kinda subtly suggesting more neurodivergent accommodations but idk if they are this year. I did ask my mom if we could try ADHD meds again (haven’t tried since 5th grade bc they wore off halfway through the school day. I’ve gotten better at masking since then but it’s still rough) so I should be going to the doctor for annual stuff soon.

Back to the main rant, yeah, I’m losing a lot of motivation to do anything and my executive function is literal dogshit right now. Self care and basic stuff like eating, drinking water, and showering is getting increasingly harder and even the stuff I absolutely love doing (art, writing, talking with the moots) is getting harder to do.

I know I’ve been saying that my spoons are really low right now but I think it’s less of temporary spoon shortage and more of actual autistic burnout.

I can barely even talk to people anymore. Just half hearted grunts and disassociating when my family tries to talk to me.

I’m getting so fucking tired and I mostly lay ing my bed all day doing nothing. I don't think its a matter of exercise because I have XC practice almost every day, but I feel like things are just getting steadily worse. Idk how to fix any of this.

I kinda wanna tell my mom I think I might be autistic (starting to second guess myself though) but I don't want to affect our relationship or make it worse. She's the type of person to have every bad reaction possible.

Idk things are just getting rougher every day and nobody I know irl can help :/

[divinemissem13]

I was tagged by @elephant-in-the-pride-parade.... 20 fic writing questions here we goooooooo 1. How many works do you have on AO3?: 58

2. What's your total AO3 word count?: 171,059

3. What fandoms do you write for? Star Trek: Voyager, Prodigy, Next Gen, Picard, Strange New Worlds... I've also dipped a toe into some other fandoms recently, but mostly drabbles.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Gotta Start Somewhere! (Trektober 2022) (198)

Rotund (113)

Postlude to a Kiss  (98)

What Happens on the Holodeck Stays on the Holodeck (97)

Kitchen Confidential (87)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I don't always have a lot to say, but I try to at least acknowledge comments with a heart or a "thank you."

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmmm probably Just Another Love Story (J/C Workforce AU)? Most of the time I try for at least a hopeful ending but that one is a real cliffhanger... Forever, Honey, and Au Revoir, Mon Amour are also probably in the running (thanks, Whumptober).

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? As I said, I do like a happy ending, so this is harder to narrow down... but I think maybe All Things Bright and Beautiful (very fluffy Beverly/Kathryn fic)... or else maybe The Best Things In Life Are Free (J/C domestic fluff)

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really, although I have gotten comments here and there where people are pretty adamant about how they want the story to go... even if it's not the way I'm planning it to go 🤷‍♀️

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I will heavily imply it from time to time but that's as close as I get!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Within the Star Trek universe, absolutely... And Beverly/ Kathryn is one of my favorite pairings. I also attempted a Doctor Who / Voyager crossover but ended up spending the whole time with Ten & Donna... who knows, maybe I'll give that another try eventually.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of (except probably Chat GPT)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No one has but I would be open to it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Did my first one very recently! Kathryn vs Coffee with @magdalenejaneway

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Kathryn Janeway/ Chakotay.... even though I'm a bit turned off by Robert Beltran at the moment, I've mostly been able to disassociate the character I write with the actor! But I do also love Kathryn/ Beverly and Picard/ Crusher (TNG)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? N/A

16. What are your writing strengths? Getting inside characters' heads/ working out why they did whatever dumb thing the original writers made them do because they had to crank out 24 episodes a season 😂

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plotting out a story in advance, visual descriptions

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I love languages but if I'm going to use another language in a fic, I will double and triple check that all of the vocab and grammar are correct and also make sure to provide a translation or enough context that one isn't needed.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Star Trek Voyager

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Most challenging fic that I think I'm most proud of: Flecks of Light and Dark (depression focused J/C rewrite spanning from 'Hope and Fear' through to 'Latent Image') But the one that kind of lives rent free in my head at the moment is All the Wounds We Cannot See (Kathryn and Beverly meet-cute, post-Picard season 3)

That was a fun little trip down memory lane! I will tag (with zero pressure!) @madamairlock, @n-square, and @captainhattersvoyagerreviews... and anyone else who wants to answer the questions!

[imaginesforeveryone]

Retreat (Part 5) 

Pairing: Y/N x rooster Summary: This is the continuation of Navy Nurse and Y/N and Rooster life after the big mission WARNINGS: fluff, angst

You woke up in the morning with morning sickness. 

“Babygirl, are you okay?” Bradley asked coming into the bathroom. 

“Yeah, just morning sickness, really hope this doesn’t last the whole time.” You said taking a deep breathe and flushing the toilet then leaning back on the counter behind you. 

“It’ll be okay.” He ticking your hair behind your ear. 

“I know. But what if I cant do it? What if I cant push, what I just cant do it at all?” You asked worried about giving birth when the time came. 

“Honey, you will. You’re strong, and brave, and you got me. I wont let anything happen to you.” He said scooting forward to be directly in front of you. You smiled and pulled him into you and kissed him softly. 

“I love you Roos.” You said feeling a certain kind of warmth in your heart when you were around Rooster. 

“And I love you Rat.” He said with a slight giggle and you smacked him on the shoulder and got up. 

“Come on, we have to get ready. Have the doctors appointment soon.” You said going to your closet and grabbing a loose fitting shirt so it was easy to take off and a pair of short because god damn was it hot out today. Probably going to be the worst part of your pregnancy was being big and round right smack dab in the middle of summer in California. Roos got ready behind you and you finished up. 

“Ready?” You asked taking a deep breathe. 

“Are you ready?” He asked pulling you into him and kissing you softly. 

“As I’ll ever be.” You said and pulled away from him and going to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before leaving out the front door passing the skyscrapers of boxes. 

“So what are you hoping for?” He asked starting small talk as you headed to the hospital on base. 

“Huh?” You asked confused by his question.

“Boy or girl?” He asked more clearly. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I think a girl. Growing up with a brother was shitty at times wish I had a sister to do the girly shit with. But I’ll be happy either way.” You explained to him as he held you hand. 

“Well, I’m hoping for a boy. I can teach him baseball, and go do dude things with him. My dad would be crazy about it if he was still here.” He said with a smile crossing his face.

“But yes, I’ll be happy either way. If I have a daughter she isn’t leaving my sight, wont have a boyfriend till she’s 30 and she will be spoiled.” He finished his thought on the gender of the baby. You smiled seeing he was fully invested in this baby and you. Pulling into base you parked and you made your way to the building next to the normal one you would go into, which was the hospital. 

“Good afternoon Captain Mefcalf. Here’s some paperwork if you could please fill it out, and we’ll get you right in once you’re done with it.” Your secretary at the front said. You took it and went and sat down with Rooster and filled the paper out.

“How are you feeling?” Rooster asked in almost a whisper trying to be quiet because it was quiet in the waiting area. 

“Alright. A little nervous, but excited.” You told him smiling over towards him.

“Me too.” he said plainly. You finished up your paper work and walked it back up to the nurse behind the desk. 

“Alright, let me take you on back.” She said taking the clip board and getting up. 

“Come on.” You said turning to Rooster who still sat in the chair. He got up quickly and followed you. She brought you into the room all the way at the end of the hallway.

“Alright here you are. Doctor will be in shortly.” She said with a smile. 

“You okay Roos? You seem disassociated. You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.” You told him watching him bounce his leg sitting in the corner. 

“No, No, thats not it at all, of course I wanted to be here. I’m just nervous. I don’t know how to act. I’m happy as all hell, but nervous of things going wrong.” He explained how he felt to you.

“Aw Bradley. Everything will be just fine.” You told him blowing him a kiss from the bed. You heard a knock from the door and the Doctor came in. 

“Captain Metcalf, how are we doing?” Doctor Kelly asked. 

“Good, how about yourself Kelly?” You asked. 

“Good. So, congratulations to the both of you to start off with.” She said smiling and sitting on her spinning chair. 

“Thank you.” You said with a smile. 

“Alright, so before we get started how are we feeling? Anything unusual?” She said as she started to write some notes.

“I mean everything feels unusual, it’s very new to me.” You said with a slight laugh. 

“But, I’ve really just been having bad morning sickness, super moody, but other than that everything feels normal.” You told her as she wrote on her clip board. 

“Well all of that is very normal. Very much normal when you are having a girl.” She said with a wink, making you smile wide.

“Alright, let’s turn these lights off, and I’m going to have you lay back.” She said getting up from her chair and going to shut off the light and turning on the big screen for you to see the ultrasound. 

“Dad, come on over, we dont bite.” She said seeing Rooster sitting in the corner still. He got up quickly and moved his chair with him to sit next to you. You put your hand out for him to hold and he did so. Taking it into both of his hands and bringing it to his face and kissing your knuckles. 

“alright this is going to be a bit cold, but only for a second.” She said and she shook the bottle of gel in her hand. She began to wave the machine over your stomach trying to find a good angle. 

“There it is.” She said stopping. You looked at the screen and saw the tiniest speck in your womb. You started to tear up and looked over at Rooster and he was also crying. Holding his hand tighter, you look over at the screen again. 

“Is it a boy or girl?” Rooster said excited. 

“We cant see that yet. It looks like you are about 12 weeks give or take. Everything looks perfect from what I see. It’s about the size of a plumb right now. So in about 2 weeks we will be able to see the gender.” She said finishing up and and handing you a print out of the ultrasound. She began cleaning off your stomach as you and Rooster looked at it. She finished cleaning up and you pulled your shirt back down. You got up and Dr. Kelly walked you two out of the room. 

“I want to see you back in about 3 weeks for your second trimester check up and to see what this little plum is going to be.” She said stopping at the front desk with you. 

“Alright, well I will see you Monday!” You said with a smile. You and Rooster walked out of the hospital together. You noticed he was being very quiet causing you to look back at him. He was just staring at the ultrasound photo and walking. 

“Roos, you’re going to run into something.” You said stopping, and he knocked into you. 

“Like me.” You said with a laugh. You were out side now and you turned to him. 

“We’re having a baby” He said simply not looking up at all. 

“Yes we are.” You said with a giggle. He finally looked up at you. He lifted you in his arms and spun you around. 

“Roos, I will throw up on you.” You told him and he set you down. You smiled up at him. 

“Come on let’s get home and finish packing.” You told him grabbing his hand and lead you two back to the car. 

“Can I keep this?” He asked as you two got into the car. 

“Of course you can.” You said with a smile seeing how invested he was. You knew you didn’t have to worry about him being a good dad. He took his wallet out and put it in there next to a polaroid of you he had in there. The rest of the night was spent packing the rest of your things only leaving essentials, and then a movie, with some pop corn. 

*Following weekend*

“Roos! Come on we gotta go pick up Brian!” You said starting to get more and more excited to see you brother. But more and more nervous to tell him the news. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He said running down the hall. Going to the car and taking off. 

“I’m so excited.” You said bouncing in your seat. 

“I can tell. I’m nervous as fuck.” He said look at the road. 

“Don’t be nervous. He’s an amazing guy.” You told him rubbing his shoulder. 

“Well, he’s a Marine right? He could probably kick my ass with one finger.” He said tensing up. 

“I mean I’m not going to tell you he’s a small guy. But, I don’t think he’ll kick your ass, unless you deserve it. He probably will be a little stand offish because you’re new to him and my boyfriend. Especially when I tell him the big new.” You said putting your hand on your stomach being that you are showing just a little bit.

“Well, let’s hope it goes well.” He said starting to lighten up just a bit. Was about a 2 hours drive to LAX. You and Rooster talked and talked about the baby and the plans for the house the you moving in, had the wind your hair with the top of the Bronco off. 

Pulling into the busy terminal and down to arrivals. Rooster rolled slowly through there and you looked closely looking from your brother, he wasn’t hard to miss at all. He was 6'4, covered in tattoos head to toe, and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen. A huge smile grew on your face as you saw him stood looking down at his phone.

“Pull over, pull over there he is!” You said pointing at him. 

“Fuck.” He said. 

“You’re fine. He’s a teddy bear.” You said rubbing his shoulder as he pulled over. You got out of the car running to him, he noticed and opened his arms wide and you jumped in them hugging him tight. 

“I missed you!” You said to him. 

“I miss you to baby sis.” He said as he set you down. You turned to see Rooster stood by his car. 

“Come on. I want you to meet someone.” You said turning and walking to Rooster. Brian grabbed his bags and followed you. 

“Brian, Bradley. Bradley, Brian.” You said. 

“Bradley Bradshaw. Top Gun graduate, one of the best pilots out there. It’s good to meet you.” Brian said putting his hand out to shake Bradley’s hand. You knew this tactic. He was showing Bradley that he can find anything out about him. 

“Good to meet you too. Y/N has told me a lot about you.” He said hiding his nervousness from Brian. Rooster started to grab Brians suitcases to put in the back of the Bronco. 

“Got it bud.” Brian said stopping him and grabbed the bags and putting them in the back. You let Brian get in the back and you got into the passenger seat. 

“Alright ready for 2 hours back home?” You asked. 

“Sure am.” Rooster said. 

“So Bradley, how’s life in the navy?” Brian asked starting his normal interrogation. 

“Good, we are training right now for a mission. The last one was, to say simply, a bit rough.” Rooster started. 

“Rough is in understatement.” You said with a scoff. 

“How about you little sis? How’s the hospital?” He asked as he out stretched his arm across the back seat. 

“Good. I love it there. Have made a lot of new friends.” You told him getting excited to be able to catch up with him. You reached over to Rooster and took his hand into yours in a comforting manner. 

“How’s the Marines?” You asked. 

“You know, it’s the Marines.” Was all he said. You knew how bad the last mission was, so you decided to not dig to deep into it. The rest of the ride was catching up and every once in awhile a few words from Rooster. Pulling up to your house, you got out and went to the door to unlock it so that Brian could go right in with his things. Brian passed you and went in. 

“The last door on the right down the hall.” You yelled in to him. You shut the door before Rooster could walk in. He looked at you confused and you pushed to walk back around to the front of the house. 

“Bradley, you need to calm down. I know you emotions are all over the place with the pregnancy, and with meeting my brother, but you need to lighten up and stop acting like a pussy. I love you and so will he, even if I have to beat the shit out of him to do so. So stop, act like the badass Navy fighter pilot I know.” You said kissing him and then walking back inside, Rooster following you close behind. You definitely caught him off guard with the way you spoke to him because you’ve never done that. 

“alright, so what’s the plan tonight?” You asked Brian as he sat on a stool in the kitchen. 

“I dont know. Any good bars? I could real use a few.” Brian said running his hands through his hair. 

“Hard Deck it is.” Rooster said coming in to the kitchen with a smile. You’re talking to must have really did something. 

“Sounds good to me. I’m going to go shower, and get ready.” Your brother said patting Rooster on his shoulder and walking away. You and Rooster went to your room and started to get ready. 

“So, how are we planning on telling him?” Rooster asked breaking the silence. 

“I had a onsie and a shirt made for him and the baby. The onsie says, ‘I have an awesome Marine Uncle.’ and his says 'Awesome Marine Uncle’ ” You told him as you took your pants off. 

“Thats cute.” He said as he stripped off his shirt. You couldn’t help but keep thinking about just screwing him until you couldn’t walk. It was probably the hormones, but then again you’ve always thought that just looking at him. 

“See something you like?” He asked flexing his muscles harder. 

“Of course I do.” You said walking over to him and taking your shit off. You ran your hands down his torso feeling every crevasse of every muscle. You planted a kiss right between his pecks where you stood face with. Moving your way down slowly and getting to his abs. 

“Babygirl, we cant right now. Your brother will be knocking on the door any second now.” Rooster said lifting you back up. You gave him a pouty face. 

“I know baby, I know. Later. Luckily he’s all the way on the other side of the house so maybe, just maybe he wont hear you tonight.” He said giving you a wink and pecking your lips softly. 

“I’m ready when you guys are.” You heard Brian yell. 

“Told ya.” He said smiling and turning to finish getting ready and you did the sam

[cavewretch]

misdiagnoses fucking SUCK and are TRAUMATIC and i have nowhere else to TALK ABOUT IT as i process this Major Shift i’m experiencing so i’m going to put it here <3

in 2020 i was diagnosed w cirs (chronic inflammatory response syndrome) by a total shithead of a doctor who didn’t believe in covid. OBVIOUSLY i stopped going to him and i started seeing this other cirs specialist (telehealth only). she verified the cirs diagnosis and then we did the whole getting out of exposure thing. that took me a really long time to complete (DUH) bc being told you have to completely uproot your life, get rid of your belongings or at least stay away from them, and either move/do extensive renovation/live in a tent etc to escape exposure is IMPOSSIBLE to complete quickly. i have an old google doc laying out abandoned plans for living in a shed in my backyard. it took a year of a lot of my own research and advocacy til my parents renovated a part of our house for me to live closed off in. i still live there.

living in spaces where you know the air is potentially making you sick but you can’t do anything about it is traumatic and i don’t know when i’ll be able to actually fully process it bc i still don’t feel safe .

anyway. cut to like summer 2022 im still sick, i’ve gotten a Smidge better on these intensive medications and supplements for cirs and living out of this Room, but i still feel like shit and can’t drive or work and get debilitating migraines Very Often. my cirs doctor’s response is i gotta move out of my house or move to arizona or keep eliminating toxins (what toxins. she was telling me the naturally occurring things that our bodies shed were making me sick. ur insane. i’ve been in pure survival animal mode for years now) SO! in november i was like maybe i don’t even fucking have this . shoutout to my friend pointing me towards thebibliosphere on here and my physical therapist who’s an advocate for eds and was able to fr change my life lmao

fast forwarding thru finding new doctors and getting appointments now im diagnosed with eds pots & mcas (getting a bunch of blood work done but yeah mcas) and i’m like ok what do i do now? can i go open the boxes of my books and artwork and other belongings that i packed up in 2020? can i go in the rest of my house? do i have to avoid the majority of buildings bc of potential water damage? can i stop thoroughly cleaning my room of any semblance of dust every 1-2 weeks? do i have to monitor my room’s humidity levels to such a specific range?

i’m doing this like massive reframing of everything i know about myself and the world and my health all at the same time and when i’m not sitting here fully disassociated i’m going fucking CRAZY !!!!!! good GOD !!!!!!! IM SO MAD !!!!!!!!!!!

AND ! to make it all WORSE ! i get booted off my parents insurance in t minus 1 year and 3 months so i have to figure out medicaid and probably apply for disability benefits AGAIN which sucks cuz that’s such a fucking dehumanizing process

at least i have the brain space to make all these fucking ocs (i reach into my pocket and deposit a dozen pinterest boards and scribbled notes into ur hand)

[crazy56u]

Okay, so, let’s pretend I didn’t do that.

Plot twist: Sam leapt into DARPA at some point during the original show.

“Look, I have to find a needle in a haystack, just bear with me.” “Ian, it’s been like three months.”

Addison was disassociating, you cannot correct me.

Abridged version: “You think Addison is okay?” “The fuck do you think?”

“Wait, I found Ben- oh fuck, he’s in Jersey.”

Dude, just pee in a bottle, it’s 1970.

“I am not gonna run on you,” says the guy who is going to run on you.

Okay, thank fucking God, I thought Ben was gonna fall for that.

Look, after you retire from the police force, you either find a different hobby, or you just spontaneously combust.

What the fucking kind of last name is Zatt?

So of course Kevin dying is the bad history…

“I can’t be here just to put Kevin in jail.” Ben, you of all people should know that Kevin can fuck himself.

[I have been waiting the entire show to do that.]

“You take your eyes off this guy for on second, he’s gone.” And cue him breaking the toilet.

“This is all a misunderstanding!” “Yeah, and my name is Sam Beckett, pick a new lie.”

Kevin is supposed to be Saul Goodman, isn’t he…

Ben, maybe if you shove him out of the car right now, that is the good ending for the leap…

Annnnnd car chase!

Why is 1970 New Jersey experiencing the Dust Bowl?

[“Okay, Ben rolled the car, cue the credits, fucking hurry!”]

And it’s on fire!

…Ben, come on, man…

Oh, shit, Kevin actually decided to save him, nevermind.

“Whelp, the car exploded, let’s just- (cuff’d)” “FUCKING REALLY?!”

Look, all Ben needs to do is ram his shoulder into a heavy solid object, it’ll pop back in.

It would be an amazing plot twist if Kevin is the reason the Evil Leaper Project never showed up in this show, just by calling a guy…

Kevin, you are pulling at threads you have no right to be pulling at, it is taking Addison everything in her power to not start swearing.

“…hey, I know I was asking personal questions and shit, but why are you talking to a ghost?”

Kevin, you deserve to get shot at.

“What made you such a cynic.” “I just told you I have a brother.”

Why is Kevin trying to steal a teddy bear?

Is Hannah on the bus?

“I’m an optimist. Not an idiot.” Mic drop.

CALLED IT

Man, Addison picks the worst fucking times to watch the TV…

Annnnnd Addison had mentally decided to go for the tequila.

“So, for three years, I think Ben is dead.” You can just tell that Magic internally went “Okay, here we fucking go…”

Addison is about to go into her Joker arc.

Okay, that cowboy is too cool looking to be in this show.

Okay, with luck, Ben relocated his shoulder with that stunt.

…okay, the bloody shoulder is not a good sign…

Okay, calling it now, Kevin is about to lead Ben to Hannah.

My Brother, The Doctor

Okay, so the leap is getting Ben medical attention, and the sibling shit is a side benefit, got it.

Honestly, I think your nephew would get a kick out of seeing you cuffed.

Okay, getting a gun to the face, off to a good start.

CONFIRMED: Quantum Leap takes place in the same universe as A Christmas Story. I can now justifiably pitch a leap where Sam or Ben has to deal with the leg lamp.

Okay, to be fair, they had to say it. You can’t not do the “you’ll shoot your eye out” but with that gun.

I admire how much anger Ben had to choke down in order to agree to Kevin’s bullshit alibi.

I love how the brother immediately reveals he didn’t buy that shit.

Okay, somehow I knew there was a real reason he got passed over for valedictorian…

“Sorry I’m late!” Hannah, you did that intentionally, and you didn’t even know it.

“Hey, Nick, stop disassociating, it’s potato time.”

Okay, I am now convinced that somehow, that is actually Ben’s kid.

“You’re a scientist, Hannah?” “She was buddies with Einstein, and saw a man punch a Nazi.” “Wow, I can only imagine how cool that guy was, he was probably ripped.”

“You’re the chair.” I AM THE TABLE-

Josh is a Rutgers man, can relate. I am so sorry.

Okay, does Hannah know she’s talking to Ben?

“Josh, what’s Rutgers like?” Waterboarding.

Okay, now she knows.

[Fuck it, why not, Part 3.]